Thinking about death
by Not what you came for
Summary: Spike musing about death, and slayers, and buffy, and...stuff. You know.


Yeah, well, I've been gone for a while. My apologies to the one or two of you who actually liked reading my stories, and two fingers to everyone else ;-) Anyway, to get back to the point, my will to write has suddenly returned to me, and I hope I can keep it up for longer than last time (All those who enjoy innuendo, please snigger now and be done with it), in order to knock out a few more stories before my muse goes back into hibernation. The following was written whilst my brains was awash in a fog of coffee and cigarettes, and thus probably wont make much sense. Enjoy it anyway  
  
-Mandatory and pointless disclaimer- Come on, people, you know I don't own this stuff, and if you're interested enough to read the fanfics, then you probably know who does own it, and that they are in no way like me. So hopefully, nobody gets sued....  
  
There are a lot of reasons to kill. Revenge, hatred, anger, grief, love...in the end, though, they all come down to the same thing – a longing to hurt. To maim, to kill. This is the deepest, darkest secret that everyone holds in their souls, never knowing that everyone around them feels it too. Humanity, in its vast majority, is afraid to own up to the very things that got them to the top of the food chain. Or at least, most of them think that they are top of the food chain. Couldn't be more wrong, could they? Got to love 'em, the ignorant sods. However, occasionally, there are people who acknowledge their subconscious desires, and act on them. Once they have committed the act and found joy in it, then they will do it again and again. These people are condemned and hated by society, but in their own heads everyone thinks "There but for the grace of God...". After all, who hasn't longed to kill someone at some time in their lives? The boss who fired you, the teacher who failed you, the girl who rejected you...that one moment of desire tells us more about a person than any test you could ever run. Man craves violence and death. Go out and see a movie, switch on your TV, and you'll see death and pain and hatred expressed over and over. Sure, some people complain, but more people watch.  
  
Now, see, a vampire...a vampire has no soul. A vampire can do what he pleases, and walk away completely guilt-free. We are no longer bound by the social and psychological restraints that keep you from acting on your desires, the things you really want in the dark of the night. If we want something, we take it. If we want something done, we do it. And if we want some body dead, we like to hurt the poor bastards as much as we can before we have to let them slip away. We have to kill to live, yes. But we will also kill for the pleasure it gives us. And so does she.  
  
Yes, like us, she has to kill to survive. In fact, she has to kill not only for her own survival, but the survival of her species. Hell of a burden, that, and not one I'd ever willingly take up. Then again, with my species, the less of us the better. More food for me, eh? She tells herself she hates the aspect of her life that drives her to kill every night, and most likely she does. In the bright light of the sun, surrounded by people unaware of what she does for them, yes, I'd believe she hates it. But not in the moment. In the heat of it, the second when you feel your weapon hit home and watch the life pass out of the bugger you're killing, she embraces the ecstasy of it.  
  
Question her on it, and she'll deny it. Probably even denies it to herself, she's that sort. Trying to rationalize it, and fair enough, its true that there a satisfaction of a sort that comes from doing for the other guy before he does for you. There is relief. But what she feels is more than relief, its pleasure. She's more like me than she'd ever admit. One day, I'll make her see. Show her that we are the same. And then....well, who knows, eh? I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.  
  
Well, I have to say I didn't mean for that to come out as dark as it did. I just sat down and started to write. Must be because I'm wearing all black today....Well, if you liked it, hated it or are utterly indifferent, PLEASE leave a review. Those of you who aren't writers have no idea how good it is to get feedback, and if you hated it, maybe with your help I wont suck so much next time. Adios, amigos. 


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